Sorry, I Was Thinking About Your Brother
by whatsthisaboot
Summary: Love Triangle? In MY ? It's more likely than you think. Might move this to AO3 if it gets taken down. For now, M for later chapters. (apologies for anyone who likes England: this fic is pretty much shitting on him lol)
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't the first time, to be honest. Actually, Francis found his mind wandering more often than not lately. Every time his mind wandered when around Arthur, a certain someone always seemed to appear. Someone with a heavy voice and heavy scratchy clothing to match. A man with a sharp jaw dotted with gentle freckles, piercing eyes and soft facial hair. Someone so different and yet so alike Arthur.

Alistair. It was like Francis was born to say that name. Alistair, Alistair, Alistair. Something about it intoxicated him, made his blood turn hot and his head spin. It made him want to yell it on the rooftops. That name made him want to whisper it softly in the morning as he woke up alongside the owner of it. Francis wanted to laugh that name as they joked and flirted just like they did back then. Back then.

Things were different back then. If you had a problem with someone, you invaded their land and killed anyone who got in your way. But Alistair was different. Alistair sat on the stone wall with him and talked about the way the sun set on fire in the evening and burned weakly in the morning. They spoke of big dreams and simple pleasures. Nowadays they never spoke at all, and if they did it was through Arthur.

"Are you even listening to me? You always zone out when I talk, it's like you're ignoring me on purpose you ass."

Francis sighed. Of course he wasn't ignoring Arthur. "My apologies, Arthur." He said simply. What else was there to say to the man you were dating? What else is there to say to the brother of the love of your life?

"Oh sure, but you never zone out when talking to your friends, now, do you? Antonio and Gilbert always have your full attention and what am I?"

"A whiny bitch." Oops. Maybe Francis shouldn't have said that.

Arthur of course went off on a tangent; yelling and angrily sorting the papers that were on the desk in front of him. He kept pointing a finger accusingly at Francis. A gloved finger.

A similar gloved finger used to run itself through Francis's hair as they sat under shady trees in the warm Britannian summers. Those gloved hands would paint pictures in the sky along with vivid stories of great adventures, with dragons and damsels and knights. Alistair always loved talking about fairytales. Mother Britannia told those same stories to her children, but they were never the same. Even Rome couldn't tell a tale like Alistair could. Alistair had a way of making you feel things that nobody else could with his stories. They made you think.

Francis was thinking.

"PAY ATTENTION TO ME YOU CUNT I'M SITTING HERE BERATING YOU AND YOU WON'T EVEN LOOK AT ME."

He sighed. Arthur was still mad. Looks like this fuse wasn't going to burn itself out today.

"If I tell you you're pretty will you forgive me?" Francis joked halfheartedly. "Usually that works with PMS'ing bitches."

Arthur was fuming. Perhaps today wasn't a very good day for making these sorts of jokes, especially when his like-minded friends weren't there to share his humour.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU FRANCIS YOU KNOW YOU'RE THE PROBLEM IN THIS RELATIONSHIP YOU'RE SO IMMATURE-"

Francis couldn't help but smile at that. Immaturity. If only Arthur knew.

The whole Auld Alliance was because of immaturity. Britannia was busy dealing with the fall of Rome and rise of the Holy Roman Empire whilst her children were yelling about not wanting to be related. He remembered Scotland coming to him that day.

 _"Oi, Normand." Alistair huffed as, plopping himself down onto the ground next to the young Roman empire._

 _"Well met, Lord Scot! Sit you down and have a laugh?" France replied, setting down his flower wreath to cuddle up to Alistair._

 _"Neigh, Normand. I sit beside you not bearing laughs nor Adam's ale."_

 _Francis had to giggle at that. "Lord Scot, nay you be the gundygut drunkard thou oft speak of thyself, but thou bringeth cheer e'rywhere thou set foot! I bid you, forswear me no longer Sir."_

 _Alistair sighed and began playing with Francis's hair. "Sharp eyes you have, Sir Normand." Francis practically purred and returned the gesture by gently toying with Alistair's shirt collar._

 _"I tell ye truth when I speak: my brothers art bluttering fonkin."_

 _Francis snorted a laugh this time, Alistair returning the laughter._

 _"Apologies. Wherefore thou have reason for such nithe speech?"_

 _Alistair seemed to tense and pause. Francis knew the tension and rubbed Alistair's shoulder lovingly. Britannia was too harsh on him._

 _"Speak only when thou art ready."_

 _It happened to be a while before Alistair was ready to talk about his troubles._

 _"Though, I have no need for speak of blob-tale, I will speak that I wish independence from Britannia. Her reign wrecks havoc on min friends. Pray, might we keep our rendezvous only for sloomy days of welkin heavens under the gaze of God? No longer will thy tears fall or min anger by rixle of sorrow." To that, Francis hummed and nodded. Yes, this was their sacred place, one not to be soiled with sibling hatred and political rivalry. This was a place of love and sanctity. A place of love-_

"-AND FURTHERMORE YOU NEVER EVEN GENUINELY COMPLIMENT ME ANYMORE, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME WE HAD A SUCCESSFUL DATE TOGETHER?"

Oh yeah, Arthur was still yelling.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU, TWIT."

Francis slowly and tiredly looked up at Arthur. Looked at that… sharp jawline and piercing eyes… those soft freckles… Sure, they weren't as plentiful as Alistair but…

He leant forward in his chair and pulled Arthur into a tender kiss. It must have been a romantic gesture in Arthur's eyes, as he didn't hit or scream or fight, but rather kissed back with passion. Arthur's lips… were soft. Too soft. Not chapped and rugged. No facial scruff brushed Francis's chin and no calloused hands grabbed his thighs or laced into his hair. Instead, thin arms wrapped around his neck and a slender waist slid into his lap. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you so much. I know I'm harsh on you a lot, but would it kill to show your boyfriend a little love sometimes?" Arthur said with a scowl, playing with Francis's hair. It just wasn't the same.

Francis replied with a smile and a hum.

"Of course, I'm sorry I've been so airheaded lately, Mon chou." He replied, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"I love you Francis."

He had to bite his tongue at that. Arthur was too emotional for his own good.

"Francis."

He knew the longer he kept these things hidden from him the worse it would get.

"Do you love me back?"

The facade quickly found itself to France's face.

"Of course I do, lapin. I love you."

* * *

 **"Oi, France."**

 **"Good to see you Scot! Sit and chat with me."**

 **"No, France. Today I don't have jokes or beer ((Adam's ale is a more humorous term))"**

 **"Lord Scot, you're not the drunk pig you think you are, but you do make everyone laugh wherever you go! I ask you to not lie to me any more."**

 **"You're smart for your age."**

 **"I'm not lying when I say; my brothers are whiny assholes."**

 **"Sorry. Why do you say that?"**

 **"You don't have to tell me."**

 **"Though, I'm not really into gossip, I will say that I want independence from Britannia. She's too harsh on my friends. Please, can we just keep these meet ups solely for the cloudy skies and tired days? We don't have to deal with our hardships anymore here."**


	2. Chapter 2

"Family" and "dinner" are words that should not be used together in any way. Family eating at a restaurant together is always hectic, and you'd be lying if you said you've ever been to a successful dinner with your family. This was a nightmare for Francis.

Sure, he'd always been a family person and loved his family, but he couldn't stand to be around them for more than twenty minutes at most. At least at world meetings they had other people to occupy each family member, but here it was just them and the small waitress that came by every five minutes to ask if they needed anything and to hint that the other customers were not happy with the noise level coming from their table.

"Alfred, sit still, not everything is about you." Arthur scolded, taking another sip of his iced tea. He had argued with the boy for a good half hour about how tea is disgusting when cold and iced tea is a sorry excuse for tea, but here he was with his lemon wedge already squeezed into the cup and two packs of sugar mixed in as well. No amount of sugar was going to help his mood.

"Oh hush Artie you're just upset that iced tea is actually good and you don't wanna admit it." The American retorted cockily. Always so arrogant.

"Will both of you just shut the fuck up? We came here for the free breadsticks, not to bicker, so I swear to god Alfred if you don't stuff your big mouth and Arthur if you don't get that breadstick out of your ass, I'm going home and taking Francis with me, both of you can walk." Matthew's surprisingly commanding voice sounded. He usually didn't get so rude with anyone (with exception of Alfred because those two argue like a married couple), but he was fed up for the night.

Francis barely perked up at the sound of his name. To be quite honest, he was texting under the table. Matthew bore holes into Francis's skull. "Oh my god, Francis, you too? Why can't we just have a good, civil, healthy dinner for once?"

Arthur cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink to silence himself from scolding Alfred for sitting with bad posture. It was always something that boy was doing that pissed him off.  
Alfred, on the other hand, just cuddled up to Matthew like a puppy. "Aw, beans, Mattie. I didn't mean to make you upset I just get so excited and you know I gotta be an angsty teen." He murmured. Matthew's blood cooled a bit.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you guys." He replied, pulling Alfred closer. "Why don't we just- I don't know. Have a normal conversation? Arthur, how was you and Francis's week?"

This time, Francis didn't look up, his thumbs moving swiftly across the keyboard of his phone as he smiled at a text.

Arthur wasn't paying attention to him anyhow, ready to vent and complain to his younger brothers. "Well, things are turbulent between us as always. Francis always seems to be spacing out lately, I think the goon is finally becoming a senior citizen." The man didn't hear, or at least chose not to pay that comment any mind. Matthew shifted uncomfortably.

"I've been so swamped with paperwork Blah Blah Blah Blah….."

 _what r u wearin (;_

 _Scott I'm with my family_

 _ooo what r they wearin_

 _That's gross they're my little brothers_

 _sorry XD but seriously fran what kinda underwear do u have on_

 _...Briefs_

 _lady briefs (; ?_

 _...I'm not going to dignify that with an answer_

"Francis!"

Francis jumped slightly.

"The food is here, bro." America said casually, quickly grabbing his food and starting to eat, much to the horror of Arthur.

"Oh." Francis mumbled lamely, picking up his fork and eyeing his shared plate with Arthur. He suddenly wasn't feeling hungry for pasta.

"Arthur was just telling me about how you two recently went to The Louvre? How was that?" Matthew asked, ever the happy young man he was. Francis admired his perseverance, though it's upsetting when Matthew wastes his time beating a dead horse, like with their family.

"It was alright. Those paintings were much cooler when I got to watch them get painted, though."

Arthur glared at Francis. "Oh please, first of all you hardly watched them in progress, you were too busy shagging my brother. Secondly, did you not enjoy our date at all? Were the paintings not "cool" enough with me there to enjoy them alongside you?"

Of course, Francis wasn't listening. He was back on his phone when Arthur started to raise his voice again.

 _aw cmon love, if ur bein naughty i wanna know_

 _Fine, they do happen to be women's clothing, but I'm not wearing them for YOUR pleasure_

 _'s not what you said last week_

Francis smiled at his phone and ignored his family once more, Alfred having joined in on the ruckus and pestering Arthur, though he was defending Francis.

 _Last week is in the past. Right now I'm trying to enjoy a nice meal with my family while also for no reason I happen to be wearing women's underwear._

 _send pics_

Oh no. That was the text he was dreading. God, how he wanted to sneak off and snap a couple of revealing pictures to send to Scott, but he knew Arthur was bound to catch him or find out in some way; he always does. Francis did not want to put that kind've stress and drama onto Matthew, as he knew Arthur would tell the boy.

 _I'm at a public restaurant._

He hadn't said no yet.

Big mistake.

Alistair replied with a picture of his own, his cock large and meaty in his rough freckled hand. It made Francis shift in his seat before deleting the message quickly.

 _Have you really no shame, Scott?_

 _what would u do if i was there next to u_

What did Alfred call men like this? Fuckboys?

Francis decided to not answer that text, only sending one message;

 _Later_

Later just so happened to be a whole nagging car ride and bickering walk to the front door later. "Look, Arthur, I'm tired and I just want to shower and sleep. It's been a long couple of weeks."

"You've been in my house for the past three months, you're saying that you don't like it here? You're such a twat! If you want to break up or leave me or move out just fucking say it and stop playing with my emotions like this!" Arthur yelled back, his voice cracking angrily.

The sound made Francis wince. He could tell the man was close to crying. "I… Can we talk about this when my head is clearer?"

Arthur sniffed and unlocked the front door, quickly walking in and taking his scarf off. He slammed the bedroom door behind himself like a teenager, clicking the lock loudly to show that he wasn't up for further discussion and Francis was not sleeping in their bed that night.

Francis sighed heavily and trudged into the house, closing and locking the front door behind himself before making his way to the restroom. A look in the mirror showed that he looked as exhausted as he felt. Bags under his eyes and veins showing in his hands and forearms, dull hair and dry cuticles. For some reason Francis felt as if he was young again. Torn between England and Scotland and his own morals. Looking at his phone, he saw another picture had been sent from Alistair. He pulled his hair back into a low ponytail and unbuttoned his pants. Just one picture for tonight.

Francis opened his phone to his messages and saw the one he was sent. His chest felt suddenly heavy. It was a picture of a tapestry. Not just any tapestry; it was a tapestry woven to show him and Alistair walking alongside each other with flowers in their hair, medieval clothing and muddy bare feet.

 _lost my hardon but couldnt stop thinkin about ya_

 _remember this? you were such a small lad i thought you were a lady until you punched me in the bollocks_

Francis turned his phone completely off. He didn't need this right now. He needed alcohol and a blanket.

* * *

boop boop doop poop this fic is gonna b sad and horny (:


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